Mind and Body are playing cards.
Mind shuffles the cards, deals seven to himself, seven to Body.
Body discards two, takes two.
Mind discards five, takes five.
The betting begins.
“May 4, 1987,” says Mind.
Body sucks his teeth.
“Someone else’s fingers in your hand,” he says.
“The end of winter.”
“Summer camp smells.”
“Jen’s wedding.”
“Sore lips after a concert.”
All the cards have been dealt or discarded.
Mind shows his cards, then Body. Mind has won.
Body curses; Mind laughs, and collects his spoils.
Body deals from a different deck of cards.
Three cards to each of them, six across the middle, face down.
No cards are discarded.
“Praying on the cliff above the ocean in middle school,” Mind says, and turns over the first card.
Body hisses. “White flowers and cut grass.” He turns over the next card.
“Every crush from 1995 to 1997.” Card.
“Every kiss from 1999 to 2005.” Card.
“Reading Persuasion for the first time.” Penultimate card.
“Mozzarella sticks and coffee after a play.” Final card.
They show their cards. Body has won.
He lets his breath out explosively, stands and stretches.
Mind watches him coolly from the table, fingers toying with the cards.